


Enervate

by moodyreindeer



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Heavy Angst, Nightmares, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10392048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyreindeer/pseuds/moodyreindeer
Summary: After the Speed Force, Wally and Barry have a necessary conversation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a reaction fic/fix-it post-Into the Speed Force.
> 
> Basically, Barry owes Wally an apology, so I deliver.

Wally looks like hell.

 

In the few days that have passed since their freedom from the Speed Force - and Jesse’s subsequent leave - Barry hasn’t seen much of the younger man. Or any of the Wests, for that matter. He’s been trying to keep his distance, but it gets harder with each night he spends on Cisco’s couch, restless and contemplative.

 

Barry holds the door open, acutely aware of Cisco snoring in the next room, but can’t find it in himself to ask Wally if he wants to come in. Just one look at the deep bags under his eyes and the fast way he rubs his hands together tells him that the answer would be no.

 

“Can we talk?” Wally asks. He doesn’t look straight at Barry - a little more to the left, over his shoulder. “Or go somewhere?”

 

Barry considers his options. He’s been due for a conversation with Wally long before their foray into the Speed Force, but he still dreads it all the same. It’s not like he was sleeping, anyway.

 

“Let me get my jacket.”

 

 

….

 

 

They go a diner on the outskirts of town, open twenty-four hours and famed for their fluffy pancakes and just-crispy-enough bacon. Their waitress tries to be cheerful even though exhaustion lines her face and shoulders; she looks ready to drop as she takes their order to the kitchen. Barry makes a note to leave a good tip.

 

“I still have nightmares about her,” Barry says. Wally’s stare burns into the top of his head; he fiddles with the salt shaker. “Iris thinks they’re about Savitar, or even Zoom, but most of them are about my mom.”

 

Sometimes they start out happy and escalate to a knife sheathed in her chest; other nights are harder to bear, doomed from the start.

 

The worse nights are when he can’t tell the difference between his mother and the Speed Force. The mirage makes him feel like she’s starting to slip from his memory; the way she would’ve wanted to be remembered getting washed away by the blood.

 

The blood Eobard spilled that night. The blood on Barry’s own hands.

 

He doesn’t want to forget.

 

“I miss her,” Wally says. His voice cracks. "I feel bad when I stop thinking about her, like it means I’m going to start forgetting. But it hurts too much when I do, when I think of how much I want her to see me, what I’m doing for the city.”

 

Barry hears the underlying message because he knows it intimately:  _ I want her to be proud of what I have become. _

 

“Have you slept?” Barry asks once their food has arrived. Neither touch their plate.

 

Wally shrugs. “The first night, after we got out. But it’s hard.”

 

He pokes the powdered sugar cloud on top of his pancakes.

 

Barry knows what he should say:  _ it will get better; it stops hurting as much, eventually; in the end, you’ll be better for it. _ But each word would be a lie.

 

It doesn’t get better. The hurting never lessens. It becomes bearable - something you adjust to, like wearing braces or learning to sleep with the lights off.

 

“It helps having people around.” Barry cuts triangles out of his stack for each name that flashes in his head:  _ Joe. Cisco. Caitlin. HR. Julian. Iris. Iris. Iris. Iris. _ “Not even to talk to - just there, so you’re not alone all the time.”

 

What he doesn’t say:  _ Don’t spend too much time alone - your thoughts will get to you. _

 

“For what it’s worth -” Barry breathes in deep, trying to get the words right. “I’m sorry for...everything. All the yelling and blaming and shit. It’s -” He shakes his head, hopeless.

 

“Complicated?” Wally suggests. A wry smirk tugs at his mouth, but it falls flat of teasing and lands on exhausted.

 

“The Speed Force was right when it said I needed to stop letting people sacrifice for me. Savitar, Iris’ future - these are my problems, not yours.”

 

Barry was wrong to assume the Speed Force favored the people it caters to. In reality, it favors no one - no  _ thing _ but the purity of the timeline. But it’s not malicious, either. It is just. Neither a consequence or a reward. Merely a result of his own actions.

 

“We’re gonna save Iris,” Wally says. He spears a piece of sausage with his fork hard enough to scrape the plate. When Barry looks at him, he looks ten years older. Already he carries too much weight on his shoulders; he sags underneath the burden of it all. “We have to.”

 

Barry looks down, then back up. It’s a fight, mustering up enough courage to meet Wally’s gaze. He wonders if the younger man can read the words he wants to say as he looks into his eyes:  _ I’m sorry these things happened to you. I’m sorry I helped make you this way. Forgive me, someday. _

 

“We will” is what comes out, because he’s a damn coward.

 

Wally says nothing. He takes a bite.

 

 

….

 

 

Barry walks Wally home. The downstairs lights are on.

 

He entertains the idea of following him inside briefly, but it vanishes as soon as the door clicks shut behind Wally, whisper-soft. Wally needs their father to himself for a while. 

 

Barry walks. He thinks about running, but he enjoys the distance from the Speed Force. He feels it in every corner of his body, lightning caged inside his veins, but he lets it rest. Now wary, not dependent on it.

 

There’s only a few hours of darkness left. Sunrise lurks around the corner, but he keeps walking in the opposite direction of Cisco’s apartment.

 

He’ll leave a text to explain away his absence; Cisco will understand.

 

Their - hers? Who knows, at this point - apartment building is dark, all its residents firmly tucked away as they sleep off the hour until dawn’s arrival. The nightly doorman, a nice man who never asks questions when he sees Barry slip in and out at ungodly hours, offers a tired wave from the desk as Barry walks by. He tries for a returning smile; his mouth hurts with the effort.

 

He drags himself up the stairs, forcing himself away even as his body droops lower with every passing minute. When he reaches the door, he expects something akin to victory, but it fails to show. The moment feels empty without it.

 

Barry breathes. In. Out.

 

Again. 

 

Again and again until he is sure his hands won’t vibrate straight through the door.

 

She looks as tired as he feels, holding the door open as she looks at him through a sleep-thick gaze.

 

He loves her. He loves her.  _ He loves her _ .

“Barry.” She breathes his name quietly. A whisper, a prayer, a hope, a promise.

 

He blinks rapidly. The hot sensation of tears prickle his eyes as his emotions jump from the pit in his stomach to a knot in his throat.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hey on my [tumblr](http://spideypetes.tumblr.com).
> 
> like my writing? buy my first book [here!](https://www.amazon.com/dp/1983447617/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1531446109&sr=8-1&keywords=women+of+questionable+morals)


End file.
